Page 41 of Catching a Con Man

Everyone seemed to have broken off into smaller groups, and after our first friendly interaction, Addison had turned to Beckett to discuss business and the twins were having a quiet argument, so I was pulled into conversation with Myrtle about her Spanish vineyards, and she promised to book us a flight within the week so that we could see them. Cam explained he’d been working on the software base of Electro’s latest car, and Ade kept smiling and squeezing my knee under the table. Myrtle plied us with red wine and the food went down too easy. By the time Addison Senior suggested moving the conversation to thedrawing room, I was feeling the buzz and feeling more at home than I’d thought possible.

The ‘drawing room’ was a beautiful wood and glass conservatory at the back of the building, and it looked over rolling fields filled with sheep and cows. As we sat and talked and drank, I could see farmers rounding up the animals and taking them inside, to barns that dotted the landscape. I had settled into one leather armchair that faced out onto the fields, and was taking a moment to myself when a shadow fell over me. Addison Senior stood by the side of my chair and looked out onto the same view for a minute.

“Sometimes, the things that lose us money actually bring us joy,” Addison Senior said. “This farm has no purpose. I can’t bring myself to sell on any of the animals for meat, or milk them. The sheep’s wool is used, but it brings in a pittance compared to the cost of keeping them. But somehow, for some strange reason…I can’t bring myself to be rid of the farm. It brings me joy.”

“Not everything is about money,” I replied.

Addison smirked. “You would believe that, wouldn’t you?”

I couldn’t tell if it was meant as an insult or if the Crane family patriarch spent so little time talking to poor people that he just couldn’t see that the way he talked was condescending. I just nodded and took a sip of my wine.

“I often come out here at night and work on business. I’d be interested in getting to know you better, man to man.” Addison patted my hand before getting up out of his seat and walking over to talk to Myrtle on the other side of the room. I watched as a little sheepdog rounded up the last of the sheep from one field, their shadows long in the setting sun.

“You seem to be fitting in well.” Ade’s voice made me jump, and he sat down on the arm of the chair I was occupying.

“I hope so.” Ade’s hand found mine and he linked his fingers with me.

“I know so. My mother loves you, and father…well, he chased away one of Dylan’s model lovers before so you’re doing well if he’s even willing to talk to you.” Ade smiled down at me, and leaned in to give me the briefest of pecks on the lips. “Father has offered us the downstairs annexe to stay in tonight if you’d rather not get a taxi home. Alessandra makes thebestcroissants.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said. Ade squeezed my hand. I looked around the room at the Crane family. Kings and Queens of Wales. The richest family for miles around, and the most imposing challenge I’d ever faced. But they were an ordinary family at heart, and I could see myself fitting in.

Little did I know how things could change.

Tyler

Iwoke in the middle of the night with the most horrific dry mouth from all the red wine and reached for the glass on my bedside table, only to realise I’d already emptied it. Somehow, despite the many luxuries that Ade was trying to accustom me to, the spare room didn’t have an en-suite bathroom. I laid back and tried my best to fall asleep, but the residual alcohol had my heart pounding, and the fuzziness in my mouth was just distracting.

I pulled on a dressing gown hanging on the back of the door and crept from the room. Ade was still snoring gently as I closed the door with aclickand made my way across the hallway to a bathroom I’d used the day before. After peeing and washing my mouth out with water, I crept back toward the annexe. But there was a light on further down the hallway, in the drawing room, and I remembered Addison Senior’s hint that he’d be there, waiting to get to know me better.Man to man.

Addison was typing away on an ancient laptop when I entered the room. The door creaked as I pushed it closed, and he looked up at me and smiled. “I thought you were the kind of man to follow suggestions,” he smiled. He held up a carafe and a glass. “Water?”

“Yes, please,” I said, hovering awkwardly for a minute until Addison gestured for me to take the seat next to him. Despite the late hour, he was still in a suit and I felt horrifically underdressed in my dressing gown.

He passed me the water, and for a while there was only the sound of his fingers tapping at the keyboard. And then he stopped and closed the lid. And the silence stretched between us.

“So. What are your intentions toward my son?” he asked. I floundered for a second, but then Addison’s face broke out into a wide grin. “Sorry, that’s very old-fashioned of me. I mean to ask, what are your feelings for my son?”

“Well…” I didn’t want to say words I’d not even said to Addison yet. “I like him. I really like him, and I think he feels the same way towards me.”

“I rather think he does,” murmured Addison Senior. “And I rather think that’s a problem.”

“Problem?” I asked. Addison grinned again. But far from putting me at ease, it caused an uncomfortable shift in my stomach.

“I had hoped, when he first defended you despite full knowledge of who you are, that you would just be a passing fancy. That he would have his fill of you and be done with it all. Imagine my horror when I found out he was bringing you in to work with him. A criminal at the upper echelons of a Crane company. And then today…” Addison seemed to steel himself. “I can see the way he looks at you. And the way you look at him. But surely you know where you come from and where he does? I’m not a classist, believe me, but…really, Mr Bevan. Can’t you see where this…doesn’t work?”

“I…” I had no response. I stood up, determined just to go back to bed and ignore the diatribe, but Addison’s fingers closed around my wrist. “Sit. We have something to discuss.”

Reluctantly, I sat. Addison Senior pulled a file from the pile on the table in front of him. He held it on his lap as he continued. “I’ve no doubt that you think you love my son. But looking back on your past, I see a man who loves trinkets. You love the shiny things he gives you and the places he can show you. You don’t want him, you want who he is.”

“That’s bullshit,” I said, surprising myself with the venom I imbued into the words. “Your son is…I wanted to hate him for his money. I wanted to hate all of you. But I don’t. So don’t accuse me of using him for that, because it’s the opposite. I love your son despite who he is, not because of it.”

Addison paused for a moment. “I almost believe you. Almost. But not quite.”

He passed the folder he had been holding over to me, and I opened it with shaking hands. It was me, all of it. Every foster home, every petty crime I’d been suspected of. Every slightly regrettable text and tweet. Me, laid bare. And then, at the back, in its own little divided section, was evidence of my subterfuge to get into the gala. The fake name, witness statements from staff, pictures of me dancing with Ade. And a picture of us at the table, my hand toying with the back of his watch as he laughed.

“What’s the point of all this?” I asked.

Addison rose to his feet. “See, Junior may have got his instinct for making money from his old man. But he never quite knew how to use his influence. There’s a reason I chose never to base myself exclusively in London, and that’s because there are so many millionaires and billionaires in a one-mile radius that I struggle to find myself with all that much influence. Here though? I have a lot of friends in high places. And friends do each other a favour from time to time. Like making sure an arrest is quietly done, so as not to embarrass us.”

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